


Purpose

by FanficsbyVe



Category: Dark Souls III
Genre: Other, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tales of Sirris of the Sunless Realms, Irina of Carim and the Unkindled that tied them both to their destiny. Story trade with Maxaro. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purpose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maxaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxaro/gifts).



> This is a story trade with AO3 user Maxaro. This person asked me to do a one-shot about either Sirris or Irina. Then I realized how much these two women and their stories had in common, so I decided to combine them. So here you go, Maxaro, I hope you like my attempt. :D

If life itself was meaningless, then one was free to give it purpose.

That was the mantra Sirris lived by. It was what drove her forward. It made her walk through the streets of a sunless realm without fearing the dark. Why should she fear it anyway? She was a Darkmoon Blade and the darkness was her ally.

The young woman had grown up in Anor Londo. Her parents had died when she was quite young and she remembered very little of them. She had been raised by her grandparents, the merchant Ernestine and the former Abyss Watchers Hodrick, and the two elderly people had sacrificed everything to ensure she grew up well. She recalled a happy childhood, one of closeness and relative comfort. 

Even so, she was aware that things were not as good beyond the walls of their home. Adulthood came with awareness of the cruel world around her. Anor Londo especially was a hotbed of power struggles, the stage for a hidden world of cloaks and daggers even after the Gods had left. Only one remained in the palace, the Dark Sun Gwyndolyn, and the people revered her generosity as much as they feared her ire. It was here that ensured the fire was linked every few centuries and her that arranged to ward off the Deep, a horrific, intense darkness that lurked in Irithyll.

It had felt natural to Sirris to pledge her allegiance to such a lord. Acting as his servant would guarantee her grandparents a comfortable life and she wanted nothing more than repay them for taking care of her for all these years. So, as soon as she came of age and was able to hold a weapon, she had made her way to the palace and thrown in her lot with the Lady of Anor Londo.

It had proven to be a wise decision. After being mentored by the Darkmoon Knightess, rumored to be the foremost of the God’s Blades, she swiftly grew into a skilled assassin. She served her Mistress by hunting down sinners, keeping the streets of Anor Londo safe from the shadows. It was a fulfilling life, one that provided for herself and her relatives, and she asked no questions, simply reaping its benefits.

Yet this relative life of leisure could not last forever. Eventually, the First Flame started to fade and darkness started to settle over the city as it had done eons ago. Its citizens looked towards Gwyndolyn to save them, to resolve the impending crisis. After all, they had heard, she had done so many times in the past.

Needless to say, utter despair washed over the denizens when it was announced the Goddess had fallen ill. She was unable to attend to her tasks and it was then that an old, familiar face returned to the city. Sulyvahn, a former Darkmoon Blade, waltzed in and declared himself Pontiff, saying Anor Londo would be under his command as long as Gwyndolyn could not rule.

Sirris had smelled a rat, even then, and when several of her fellow Darkmoon Blades started to disappear, she knew what to do. In the darkest hour of an already darkened world, she had taken her grandparents and fled the city with them. They had fled as far as they could away from any Deacons of the Deep, to the faraway land of Lothric. 

Never had Sirris felt so much relief as when she saw the Firelink Shrine of that land. It meant a safe haven, a place free from prosecution. For that reason alone, it was the most beautiful thing she had seen.

Grandmother Ernestine seemed to feel the same way. It wasn’t long before the considered the Shrine her new home. She and grandfather Hodrick had always been resourceful people and it wasn’t long before they could start to make a living at the Firelink Shrine itself. The entire family would scavenge many valuable goods from dead bodies or trade the meat and mushrooms they foraged. This allowed them to sell essential items to those who passed by the Firelink Shrine and the resident Fire Keeper allowed them to live there. It was a meager life, much more so than what they had in Anor Londo, but it was theirs and it was easy to find happiness in it.

It was not long before Sirris did more than simply trading there. She considered herself a protector of this place. She still had her skill with blades and magic and would make sure the pilgrims residing here would remain safe. She would go out and hunt sinners once more, particularly the dreaded Rosaria’s Fingers, making the Shrine a haven of peace for those who had fled there.

For a while, they were content there. Their life was simple but fulfilling, away from the strife they had experienced within the splendorous streets of Anor Londo. Still, Sirris couldn’t help but feel a certain darkness had taken hold of her. A fatigue of the heart, one that might sooner or later take its toll.

Unfortunately, it seemed, she was not the only one of her family members that felt this way. Her grandfather found live at the Shrine hard. He felt the place did his elderly body few favors and he missed his days as a warrior. He felt ashamed of living at the Shrine, calling their home there “squalid” and “dishonorable”. Sirris and her grandmother tried their best to make life easier for him, with Sirrus even promising to end his misery should he ask, but he remained implacable and every day, his resentment grew a little more. 

It was early one morning, after Sirris returned from another hunt, that she found her grandmother alone and crying. When she rushed over and asked her what was wrong, she told her that her grandfather had left. He had left everything behind aside from his sword and armor and gone to join the Mound-Makers, never to return.

Sirris could feel her heart break into a million little pieces when she heard that. She knew who the Mound-Makers were. They were a group of madmen, not distinguishing between friend or foe, only devoted to killing whomever they pleased and as much as possible. Only the cruel or those whose sanity was slipping joined them and at that moment, she had known her grandfather was gone for good.

They had cried all night, the both of them, and while her grandmother’s tears kept flowing for a long time, those of Sirris had dried by morning. She made a decision that night, one that left no room for tears. She was going to find her grandfather and put an end to his misery.

That task, however, soon proved to be a difficult one. The Mound-Makers hid well and many times, she found herself following fruitless leads. She wandered the land, sensing how they became transitory as the First Flame faded ever more, carrying out her task as a protector while desperately looking for any signs of her lost relative. It was a thankless task and as the world slowly slid into blackness, she wondered if she would ever succeed.

Then, he appeared in the Firelink Shrine one day. A young male Unkindled, likely searching for the Lords of Cinder like most did. He seemed to be a friendly man, cordial with all those lingering around the bonfire. She saw from a distance how at ease her grandmother seemed with him, but when he went over to her, curious about her presence, she stayed friendly but formal and told him there was no benefit to fraternizing, each having their own duties to bear.

He seemingly respect that decision and with a final, polite greeting, he went off to his own quest. She talked to her grandmother about the man in his absence and she spoke well of him. She told her he had found ashes belonging to Hodrick and, suspecting their origin, that he had returned them so she could pay her final respects. Ernestine told her granddaughter that he was a good man, kind and compassionate, and that perhaps, he could help her find her grandfather.

Those words, spoken so confidentially, gave her hope. Her grandmother was a good judge of character, had always been, so if she decided to trust this man, so should she. She needed all the help she could get and Unkindled or no, she saw no better choice than to throw in her lot with this Champion of Ash.

As such, the next time she saw him, she offered her assistance. He accepted it almost immediately, promising her to help her as well in her hour of need. After all, he stated, the only thing that would help people like them survive was comradery in this time of need. It was a wonderful way of putting it, she thought, and soon, an alliance was made.

Indeed, their cooperation soon paid off. She helped him where she could, squaring off against the monstrous Deacons of the Deep to avenge her Darkmoon brethren and eradicating the last of the maddened Abyss Watchers. In exchange for her service, he provided her with information and aid as well. 

It was together that they hunted down the murderer Creighton the Wanderer, finally bringing an end to his crimes as a Finger of Rosaria. She had rewarded him richly and it was after this that he told her he had received word about the Mound-Makers and that they were holed up in a place called the Pit of Hollows in the Undead Settlement having moved in there after he had slain the Curse-Rotted Greatwood there. Based on what she and her grandmother had told him, he wondered aloud if her grandfather might be there.

Sirris had thanked him profusely for this information and, after giving a letter to her grandmother to inform her of her plans, she had immediately set off for the mentioned location. The Ashen One was quickly proved right. It didn’t take long for her to find the Pit of Hollows and she quickly noticed a small figure at the bottom. Even from where she stood, she recognized her grandfather.

She had not hesitated in summoning the Ashen One once more. Something told her she could not manage this alone. Whether it was because of emotional reasons or because her grandfather was the superior warrior even in old age, she did not dare ask herself. All she knew was that this needed to be done and that there was no shame in asking for help.

Her companion rushed to her aid almost immediately. He had stared at her and then at the man below. He had asked her if she truly wanted to do this. That he could do it for her if she lacked the strength and bravery. There was no shame in acknowledging weakness, after all.

Sirris had staunchly refused. While she appreciated his helpfulness, this was her fight. She needed to end it and no one else. 

As such, the both of them descended into the Pit. She quietly approached her grandfather, with the Ashen One following close behind. Part of her hoped that perhaps, Hodrick could still be reasoned with. That perhaps, he would come to his senses again and she could take him home…

“I finally found you. Just as I promised, granddad, remember?”

Those words, spoken with the faintest trace of hope, quickly died in her throat. As soon as her grandfather turned to him, she could see an emptiness in his eyes. His movements were jerky and unnatural and feral noises poured from his throat. It was there that she knew that he was no longer the loving man she knew. He was hollowing rapidly and beyond saving…

She stood there, nailed to the ground with grief as her grandfather raised his weapon. The Ashen One moved before she could, warding her from the blow with his shield. He then charged, determined to protect her and his fierceness was enough to shake her from her petrified state. She took up her own blade, deciding to uphold her final promise.

The fight was an arduous one. Both she and the Ashen One got hurt quite badly, her grandfather still a formidable warrior even though his mind was gone. They fought tooth and nail to bring him down, trying to heal and cover for each other. When he finally fell, they were tired and bloodied and all Sirris could do was whisper her last farewell through her tears.

“Good night, granddad…”

As she stood there, paying her grandfather his last respects, the Ashen One gave her her distance. It was only afterwards that he asked if she needed help to bring the body to the shrine. He was still her relative, after all, and he deserved a decent burial.

All she could do at that was solemnly nod and together, they brought the lifeless body back to the Firelink Shrine. He helped her bury him and said a prayer, wishing him well in a possible next life. He then left her to mourn her grandfather in peace, telling her she could find him inside, recovering from his injuries by the bonfire.

Sitting in front of her father’s grave, Sirris had hoped to feel some relief. After all, she had found her grandfather and ended his suffering. She should find some happiness or at least relief in that. Then why did she feel so empty instead?

She was tired, she realized. Tired of this difficult life, fleeing to stay ahead of a dying Flame. Tired of staying alive while all her loved ones withered and died or were assassinated. She had reached the end of her rope and something inside her said she couldn’t bear to live through another linking of the fire. 

It was there, she had made decision. She was done. She had fulfilled her duty, kept the Shrine safe. Like the Fire Keepers who tended the Flame, she too would close her eyes for an eternal rest to let another take her place, waiting for her grandmother to soon follow her. Yet she was not going to go without settling her debts first.

She made her way inside, finding the Ashen One by the bonfire as he had said and stated her intentions. “Oh, there you are. I’m afraid I’ve involved you in my affairs, over a little promise at that. My sincerest thanks for your assistance. At last, my grandfather will rest in peace, and I can die. But there is…one last thing. May I take a vow? To serve as your knight?”

She could see how the Ashen One’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t missed her allusion to suicide. She wondered now if he would try to talk her out of it. Still, after a brief moment of silence, he nodded.

“I can’t know what you have gone through before we met, my lady. It takes courage to go and even more courage to stay and courage is a thing easily lost in this bleak world. If you wish to leave with a debt fulfilled, however, then I accept you into my service. Help me defeat the final obstacles to link the fire and I consider your debt fulfilled.”

His words, spoken with so much tact and empathy, nearly had her tear up. Her grandmother had been right. This man, this Champion of Ash, was truly unlike any other. Maybe he would indeed be the one that could link the fire once more and restore the world for another age. Her oath could only reflect that hope.

“Oh, I am most grateful. I, Sirris, do hereby serve as your faithful knight. Wherever, whenever, I am needed, and even if all should turn against you... My loyalty shall never waver."

He listened to her oath, solemnly and with a sad smile. He then promised to call on her soon. To make sure she fought a worthy battle, befitting of a former Darkmoon Blade, before she chose her eternal rest.

It was a promise he had kept. She had fought grand foes as a loyal knight by his side. An old Dragon Slayer’s Armor, enchanted by a horrific Pilgrim Butterfly to function without its master and even the royalty of Lothric itself. She had fought bravely and proudly against the brute that was Lorian and cunningly undermined the healing miracles of sly Lothric. It was the kind of fight bards would write songs about and she was glad to feel alive one last time.

As she and the Ashen One came out victorious, she bowed to him and he did the same, giving her a sad smile. “I assume this is farewell, Lady Sirris?”

She nodded. “Yes. My time has come. Thank you, Champion of Ash. I can go without unfinished business, all thanks to you. May you succeed in linking the flame, so the world can become light once more.”

He sighed, trying his best to manage some happiness. “I owe you my thanks as well. For aiding me in my grueling quest and make me believe in the good of humanity. Farewell and may you find peace.”

A small smile came onto her lips at that. If the world had been different, then they might have been able to both remain alive. To fight side by side one more time, to set off and find adventure together. Yet the world of knightly tales and courtly intrigues had past and it was time for her to move on. She bowed once more, determined to make sure her companion knew what he had meant to her.

“Thank you, Champion of Ash. Thank you for giving me my dignity back and for having allowed me to live with purpose. Farewell. Blessing of the moon upon your journey.”

Having said these words, she returned to the Firelink Shrine. There, she handed her armor to her grandmother and kissed her farewell, telling her they would meet again soon. She then stepped outside, to the spot where she had buried her grandfather. She curled up against his grave, taking out a painless, fast poison from her days as a Blade of the Darkmoon. She ingested it and then leaned against the crude gravestone, waiting with the contentment of one who had lived a good and proper life.

“I will see you soon again, granddad. So will grandma. Let’s hope there is a better place for us out there…”

It was there, in the Firelink Shrine, that Sirris, former servant of the Divinity, closed her eyes for good. An end to a tumultuous life, but one chosen of her own accord. It was the best someone like her could have hoped for and the last thought that went through her mind was how grateful she was to have met the Ashen One. How he had allowed her to spend her last few weeks with purpose and without regrets. 

Little did she know as she went towards her peaceful end, however, that she was not the only one whose life was entwined with the Ashen One. There was another, in the very Firelink Shrine where she had rested. A shy demure creature, one she had barely noticed during her time there, huddled and forgotten in one of its many corners.

Never once in her life did Irina of Carim feel she accomplished anything. As the third child in a family of six, frail of health and average of appearance, she was little good for farming and hard labor or even to be sent off with a wealthy suitor. Her parents, kind people who loved their offspring, had always done their best to not have her feel like a burden, but she could never shake the feeling she was.

Not even her best friend did. Eygon was a young boy of the local knight’s house, to which her family were serfs. His parents had no qualms of letting him play with the children of commoners and the two of them quickly grew close. She liked his sense of adventure and that, unlike the other children, he never treated her like a brittle thing about to fall apart. He would often play with her near the creek on their land, teaching her how to fish or scavenge for edible foods. They would engage in mock swordplay with sticks and make floral crowns together and even now, she remembered their time with fondness.

In fact, it was thanks to dearest Eygon that she had managed to become a nun. He was the one to teach her how to read and write, who helped her pursue a study in miracles. He claimed she had talent, something she herself wasn’t so sure of, and that she would do excellent as a healer. He told her she would be suited for a life in a convent, aiding the sick and destitute, providing a light in the dark world of Carim.

So fervent he had been in that belief that he had arranged for her apprenticeship in the local convent when she came of age. Her parents were glad to let her go, relieved and happy she would be somewhere safe to pursue her talents. Irina herself had been excited too. How often did a common girl get the chance to receive an education such as hers?

Those three years in the convent were some of the happiest of her life. She threw herself into her studies, into learning miracles and healing the sick and injured. The mother superior had nothing but respect for her, praising her dedication and resourcefulness. While she wasn’t the fastest student, she was diligent and persevering and that, she was told, made a better healer than talent alone.

Irina wanted to believe that. Between these walls, she had found her calling. She had found something to do, something she wasn’t too frail or too plain for. Her life was simple but fulfilling and she was close enough to home that she could still see her loved ones. Her parents and siblings regularly visited her and even after Eygon was sent off to train and become a Morne’s knight, he came by whenever he could. Her life was golden and she was at peace.

Then, it happened. It started when she realized she had a harder time focusing when reading. The text seemed to blur, the letters blotches. First, she thought she was simply tired, but as the months wore on, she realized the rest of the world was becoming equally vague.

Soon after, the darkness started to set in. Dark shadows started to appear at the edge of her vision and soon, the world started to blur together into a single primary color. It was there that a horrifying realization hit her.

She was gradually becoming blind.

Irina wept that night. She wept as if she tried to wring pity from a stone. If she went blind, it would be the end of her life here at the convent. She would be sent home, but there wouldn’t be much use for her there either. She would likely be out on the streets, begging in the gutter for alms just to get by. That thought broke her and she barely found the strength to get out of bed the next morning.

Initially, she tried to hide her failing vision and continue her life best as possible. Still, it was only so long before all the minor errors her impaired eyes caused started to stack up. Her mother superior noticed and called her in to discuss the situation. While she was utterly sympathetic, she explained that the girl’s lack of vision would render her unsuited for life in the convent. She would have to send her home. 

Seeing her fears realized, Irina lost all will to move on. The same, however, was not true for those closest to her. When Eygon came by and she told him what was happening. Unlike what she had expected, he had felt nothing but sympathy and promised he’d help her in any way possible. He provided her with books in braille, language one could feel with their fingers, and taught her to read those. He refused to give up on her, no matter how dire the situation seemed.

Then, her mother superior came to her with a suggestion. The cycle of the First Flame was coming to an end once more. Once the Flame would be reignited, the current Fire Keeper would be led to her rest, the bonfire in the Firelink Shrine left unattended. Perhaps, she wondered, such a noble duty would suit her well, as those best suited for the task were those who could not see.

Irina’s heart leaped with joy at that very suggestion. Even though she knew the fate of a Fire Keeper was a lonely one, it was something she could do. Something for which she did not need sight. For her, everything changed that day. She was not going back home, left to a life of begging and ridicule. She was going to dawn in the new age as a Fire Keeper.

When she told this to Eygon, however, he had not shared her joy. He had burst into anger, asking her how she could possibly desire such a foolish fate. To die a slow death, alone and forgotten by anyone but the wretched undead who needed her services. 

He begged her to reconsider. To come to his home instead. He’d find her a task there, in a place she would be loved and well cared for. He was a Morne’s Knight, after all, and they dedicated themselves to a single maiden all their lives. He told her that if that were so, he’d rather have it be her, the dear friend whom he had cherished all his life. He asked her not to leave him, saying he would miss her too much and could not bear to have to deliver her to such a horrid destiny.

Irina understood. The two of them had grown up together, making them as close as siblings. It was hard for her too to imagine a life without him. Still, she tried to explain to him that while he meant well, she didn’t want to live of the charity of others. Besides, she had the knowledge to be a Fire Keeper and if it wasn’t her, then another girl would be sacrificed. She would be blinded to fulfill her task. If an innocent would have to suffer that fate, then she who was already blind should go instead.

They had argued, long and vehemently, but she had stood by her decision. She beseeched him to respect it. To truly be a Morne’s Knight and guide her there. She had him swear this on his life and after endless hours, he finally relented, though he didn’t refrain from stating he did not have to like it.

They left a few weeks later, after the proper blessings from her convent and a last farewell with her family. They set off on the long, dangerous road to the Firelink Shrine in Lothric, onwards to her new life. She was frightened and excited at the same time, but took heart in the fact Eygon would protect her.

Her childhood friend, however, seemed to morph into a different person with every step they took. He was cold and distant towards her, snapping at her for the smallest reason. He refused interaction with her, safe for the base actions of protecting her and feeding her and wished to travel in quiet otherwise.

Back then, it had grieved her beyond words to have her childhood friend treat her this was. Now, she wondered if this was perhaps his way to cope with losing her. That a farewell would be much easier for him if he no longer found it in him to weep. That thought was a bitter one, but she could still find it in her heart to forgive him.

Indeed, his heart had not entirely turned to stone. When she had suddenly fallen ill and the last stages of her blindness had set in, he’d been there for her. He’d held her close as she cried, tried his best to reduce her fever and feed her food that would strengthen her. He had carried her when she was no longer able to walk and gave up his own blanket to keep her warm at night and she knew the boy she once knew was still there. He even promised her that if her suffering ever became too much, he’d end it quickly for her, if only she’d ask. She had no such intentions yet, but she nonetheless was thankful for him to make such a promise.

Still, her disease ravaged her body and soon, she was too weak and disorientated to continue. She was a panicked, crying mess, drifting in and out of consciousness and lost in the darkness that had replaced her sight. In the end, she was so broken she couldn’t take another step and Eygon once again pleaded with her to go home. She refused and as result of this horrendous stalemate, her protector had resorted to keeping her safe by locking her into an abandoned cell. He promised he would stay close and try to think of a solution that suited them both.

She understood his actions, she really did, but that did not make her captivity any more pleasant. Alone in the dark, she felt lost and alone. She had failed the one thing she still felt capable of. She was such a burden that she could not even become a Fire Keeper.

Then, there was someone in her cell. A man, she could tell, yet it was not Eygon. She called out, asking for him. She begged him to touch her, to let her know she was not alone.

The man had obliged. His voice was rife with concern as he had asked her if she was alright and said that she didn’t need to be frightened. He was gentle and kind with and when he asked her what she was doing here, she felt safe enough to answer. She told him her name and that she had traveled here to become a Fire Keeper. In response, he told her he could not recall his name as an Unkindled, but he could bring her to the Firelink Shrine if she so wished. It would definitely be safer and more comfortable than this cell.

Irina had readily accepted his offer. How could she not, when she had nowhere to go? Still, not wanting to be considered a burden, she offered him her services in return. She only knew a few miracles, yet she figured they could perhaps be of use. The Ashen male readily accepted this and like that, she had been whisked off to the Firelink Shrine.

The Shrine was a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of her journey. The other occupants were friendly with her and the place was strangely peaceful. Even Eygon became gentler once there and regularly checked on her, bring her food and making sure she was safe and comfortable. He even told her he had allied himself with the man who brought her here, stating that he’d unleash his wrath upon him should he harm even one hair on her head.

Yet the man, this Champion of Ash, did no such thing. Whenever he returned to the shrine, he visited her. He’d ask her if she was comfortable and asked her to tell him tales of miracles. He would compliment her voice and tell her she had a great talent for telling riveting tales. He would sit by her, listening to her stories and conversing with her and tell her just how valuable she was.

When she ran out of miracles to tell him about, he took it upon himself to find her new material. She could not believe it when he brought her braille tomes and encouraged her to read them. The stories he brought her were beautiful epics, speaking of miracles that brought light and hope to the world. She did the same, he told her, simply by lending her voice to them.

His words were kind and soothing, a guiding light in the darkness that had now robbed her of her sight. He never treated her as something to pity, something to take care of. To him, she was valued, essential in helping him in his quest to link the fire. He even told her she would have made a grand Fire Keeper, because even though her body was weak, her spirit was strong if she had survived against so many odds.

Those words, spoken with so much certainty, had her mind still. It evoked something deep within, something she had not felt before. This Champion of Ash saw what neither her mother superior nor Eygon had seen. She was not a tarnished soul to be sent away or a frail little bird that needed to be watched over. She was worthy to be here. She was worthy to be a Fire Keeper and even if her body was frail, her will was one of steel.

That revelation strengthened her. More than any blessing or threat. The Champion of Ash and his kindness was what now drove her. She threw herself into reading the books he brought, learning countless miracles along the way. She would then provide the Ashen One with the knowledge she had learned, wishing him fair tidings and victory on his quest. 

With each heavenly miracle she learned, something inside her changed. The disease that had ravaged her on the way here started to wane in strength. She lost her desire to hide. The sense of pride and dignity she had lost so long ago started to return to her and with it, came a sense of enlightenment. A strange affinity with souls she had never felt before and a deep desire to get closer to the First Flame.

There was not a doubt in her mind that Eygon noticed this change as well. He was quiet when he was around her now. He seemed annoyed and irritated when she told him about the changes in her, yet underneath his gruff answers she could sense immeasurable grief as well. Irina did her best to comfort him, telling him not to be sad for her and to think of the home he’d go back to. She told him that soon, it would be her time and that she wanted to say goodbye to him before then, thankful for his care. He had graciously accepted those final words and then wandered off to parts unknown.

Then, one day, there was no fear left for her to feel. No wasting weakness eating away at her body. The darkness stopped nibbling at her flesh. Something had changed in her and her heart swelled with confidence and purpose.

For the first time since her journey, she rose by herself. Her lack of sight mattered not, her steps guided by sheer instinct. The Flame called to her, telling her she was ready to begin her task. She heeded that wordless call confidentially, finding her way to the base of the tower near the Shrine. 

The place was filled with the bodies of Fire Keepers of old. She could feel them crack and dissolve under her feet, but she felt no fear. She would return to this place one day, when her tenure as a Fire Keeper would end. Until now, it would suit her as a home until her task began. 

Apparently, her absence at the Shrine had not gone unnoticed. After an unknown amount of time had passed, she could hear a voice calling for her. It was the Ashen One, she knew, and he sounded panicked. Why, she wondered? She was safe. She was not in danger at all.

She called out and it was not long before she could hear him descent into the catacombs. Once he had made it down, he rushed up to her, taking her hands and looking her over. She sensed how he gave her a worried glance, his voice barely a whisper.

“Irina… What are you doing here? Are you well?”

Irina could only smile as he said that. She was more than just well. She was a Fire Keeper now, the one thing she had journeyed so far for. She was no longer broken and it was all thanks to him. Now, she would pay him back in kind.

“Oh, sweet Champion of Ash. Let souls be your strength…”

The Ashen One looked at her again, hesitantly, but nonetheless held out his hand. She took them in hers, trembling slightly. She could feel thousands of sovereignless souls writhe inside her body, begging for her touch to build them into strength. She smiled. That was her task now, to help champions on their way, and she would fulfill it with pride.

After that day, the Ashen One came back regularly. She’d ask her to channel the souls he acquired and, as before, looked out for her wellbeing. He told her he was happy to see her so content with her new life and that he hoped she would have a blessed tenure. His kindness warmed her and her new life suited her, yet one questioned remained.

“Champion of Ash… Where is Eygon?”

There was a short silence, yet it felt far too long to the woman. It was as if the man was thinking. As if his answer didn’t come naturally. 

“He…went home. Back to Carim…”

Irina didn’t miss the pause in that sentence. She could sense the man was hesitating, words laced with an uncomfortable sadness. She was not certain what to think of it, yet something told her she didn’t want to know more.

“I see…”

She then felt how the Ashen One put something on her lap. She reached out to put her fingers on the object and instantly recognized Eygon’s Morne’s gauntlets. She stared at the man with her empty eyes, questioningly. 

“He…asked me to give you these. As something to remember him by…”

She nodded quietly at that statement, deciding to accept it as truth, and hugged the gauntlets to her chest. She missed Eygon. She missed her home in Carim and the time they had spent there. Yet fate had decided she could not stay there.

She was a Fire Keeper now. A purpose she had fought so hard for to attain. In spite of sickness and struggle, she would tend to the fire for another age. This Champion of Ash had ensured that she could and she would never forget how he turned her from a burden into a beacon for the world. For that, she would be forever grateful.


End file.
